


Know You Better

by tavrosroofies (troof)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Dating, M/M, Shiro can read minds, everyone's low-key rich in this au that happened unintentionally, keith can't, relationship angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-06-24 06:46:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19718356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/troof/pseuds/tavrosroofies
Summary: Keith has a date who is perfect. He's cute, funny, and he likes the things Keith likes. Keith could probably take him down to the racetrack one day after they go on whatever fancy date they have that night and have cuddly morning sex.But every great date has a great flaw. Shiro's is, he's a telepath. Normally, that would be wonderful, except Keith isn't ready for that level of transparency with someone he's just met yet. Keith likes boundaries.He wonders, several times, if Shiro is the one for him.





	Know You Better

**Author's Note:**

  * For [For Fucks Sake Shirogane (Mellowcreep)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mellowcreep/gifts).



> I'm so glad the day is here, I've been waiting forever to post this! The hardest thing about this bang was having this story languishing in my wip folder for 2 months but on the flip side it forced me to rewrite and do more edits, so hopefully, a win-win? 
> 
> Warm wishes and a thank you to everyone who reads!
> 
> Edit: omg I gifted this to the wrong person a long time ago and they didn't get it, so ffs shirogane, thanks for waiting two extra months and not getting mad at me
> 
> i'm gonna go hide in a corner
> 
> This is for you!

Around the corner from Keith's apartment, tucked in between a bakery and a store that sells portable solar tech, there's a café that operates from morning to evening. It has a charming brick exterior. Keith's been a customer at many cafés trying to get his body the sweet black sludge it needs before work, but this one is by far his favorite. It's been kind to him. 

The café has floor-to-ceiling-length windows that let the sun in, and show a sliver of the sky when it gets dark; the buildings are packed too tightly to show much else. The owners a long time ago hung plants in all the corners of the shop and set them on all the windowsills, and Keith thinks it lends the area an aura of life.

When he goes in, people don't talk, all wrapped up in their own worlds, and the barista he usually talks to has a talent for making people smile. 

It's unnatural, really. No one Keith knows has ever had a bad day around Matt. If they are in the dumps, he always cracks a quick joke, and despite the propensity those usually have to fall flat, whoever it is picks up on it and walks away satisfied when they finally pick up their drink.

Keith wishes he had that; wishes he was special somehow. But no, he's just regular, 100% human DNA Keith, with all the flaws and trouble that brings. 

He has a date there today, courtesy of Matt, with a man who's absolutely gorgeous. From the picture Matt showed him, Keith's guess is that at some point, Shiro was a varsity football player in the past, or something of the like, because he definitely works out a lot. He gets the feeling that Matt told Shiro about him too because Shiro knows exactly who he is and he smiles at him when he reaches the table. Keith gets butterflies in his stomach sitting down in front of him.

He wants this to work out. He's not in particular need of a boyfriend, but the nights have been getting lonely lately and he's starting to realize he might want someone else.

Shiro wears a cream-colored sweater even though it's warm outside (Keith thinks it must be one of those summer sweaters), and his eyes are the color of mist. Keith can't tell if it's an extremely pale shade of blue or if they really are that way, gray. Just another thing that's unusual.

 _It'll be okay_ , he tells himself, and takes a sip of his fruity drink with his hand insulated by the glove. The cold still reaches the center of his palm, though, and the tips of his fingers, kissing them icy wet. They're in his favorite café, in his favorite spot, the back corner table with two seats, as he sips on his favorite drink. He's fine.

He gets the feeling that this is a gentle man--his mannerisms are such that Keith can imagine laying his head in his lap after a long day and letting Shiro play with his hair, maybe--if they ever get that far. Then again, he could be wrong.

They talk about Matt, of course, because he's the obvious subject, Shiro talks about his adventures getting a chemical engineering degree at the university down the road, and Keith tells him what he likes about working at the race track. He's not one of the drivers, but he still likes working with cars.

Shiro pulls a face as he explains that, so Keith thinks, _okay, then, he must not like cars_. He might be able to take him to the race track one day and change that, though, or he might not.

When they pick up their stuff to leave, Shiro turns to Keith and says, "I have a confession to make."

"What is it?" Anything that comes after 'I have a confession' either is really good or really bad.

"I can read minds," says Shiro gingerly. Keith takes a moment to process this and crosses his fingers that Shiro is pulling his leg. 

"Can you read my mind?" It's not _impossible_ , it's just not common. Keith has read news stories about people with abilities like this, and the only reason they make the news when these feats are proven is that they're so _rare_ ; estimated at one in a few _hundred_ million.

"Yes." Of course. If Shiro can read minds, there's no reason he wouldn't be able to read Keith's mind, and what he thought was a good afternoon is just about to go downhill from here.

Keith has spent the last three hours thinking some very explicit thoughts about Shiro, and what he wants him to do to him, and if he heard any of those, it's over for Keith. 

"Then what am I thinking?" Shiro's face pinches up as if he knows they're about to swerve into Disastertown, too, but they're already on the train and the tracks have already been set. 

"You're wishing with all your heart that what I'm saying is not true."

"That's pretty obvious. If you want to prove it to me, try again?" Keith crosses his arms and waits Shiro out. Anyone with basic people-reading skills knows that no one wants others to read their minds. That was a lucky guess.

"You...like my eyes. You were thinking it earlier, when I looked at you and we first sat down. And then...well, there were a lot of things, a lot that I don't think I need to repeat." 

In his entire life, Keith has never felt so red-handed. He doesn't know what to do. One moment he's staring at the face of his date in shock and the next, his drink has sloshed all over it, dripping down his shaven chin into the 'v' of his shirt. 

If Shiro can read his mind, then he can know everything: how Keith grew up, the trouble with the foster homes, how he tried to go to college but it didn't work out, every single one of his feelings--one thing he likes about dates is that with every new person it's a clean start where he can show the best of himself, but now Shiro probably knows him without even getting to know him. This was such a mistake, what a mistake this was. 

His lip trembles but he clamps down on it before Shiro can notice. "You didn't think you needed to tell me?" he nearly yells, exasperated. Shiro's eyes flick over to the counter, but then they flick back to Keith, immediately. "Instead you just let me spend our whole time embarrassing myself? Why are you telling me now? Did you just want to manipulate me, humiliate me? Is that what makes you happy?"

"No, that's not what I wanted." Keith feels like he's at the end of one of those reality TV shows where somebody pulls a prank and their target is left to either get mad for the entertainment of the audience or laugh it off like nothing happened. 

The barista looks over at them as he washes his cup, and a number of customers halt their work on their laptops to crane their necks around and look at Keith and Shiro. "Let's get out of here, and talk somewhere more private, okay?" Shiro suggests. Realizing they're making a scene, Shiro puts a hand on Keith's shoulder and guides them out of the shop after he grabs a couple napkins. 

He doesn't know where "more private" means, but he can't help where his brain goes and he knows it's not that. Shiro's hand feels heavy on his shoulder and all he can think is that wherever he takes him, Keith would surely follow along. Beyond that, Shiro is touching him, and all he wants is more.

His back touches the door, and he pushes it open with his body so they can both escape into the warm night air. The bell chimes behind them as the door closes. It's just them, now, and their interactions are less magnified by the noises of the street. Shiro removes his hand, and Keith grieves for its loss.

"Keith. I never meant to embarrass you, but I didn't know how to tell you. This type of thing never goes over well on dates, I haven't had a single one where it has. I can't stop it, I can't turn it off, and if you don't want that...we need to break this off now, before it grows into something bigger. No hard feelings, I understand."

Shiro still has raspberry iced tea dripping down his nose and soaking his sweater, and his eyebrows are pinched together like he's expecting a disappointment. This could be it for them, if he wanted. They could go their separate ways, and he would probably never see Shiro again. 

His immediate instinct is he doesn't want that, not at all, but if he doesn't...he doesn't know if he's ready for a relationship like that, where someone could see everything. 

For the first time in a long time, though, he met someone who was...compatible. Someone he thought shared the same interests, someone easy to talk to...he doesn't know if he would ever find this again.

He takes a napkin from Shiro's hand and starts blotting his sweater to get out most of the liquid because Shiro isn't doing anything. He's just standing back and watching Keith. The fabric is already stained. 

Keith gives up on the stain and looks back up at Shiro, who still waits to get hurt. This wouldn't be such a problem if he wasn't so insufferably thirsty anyway. "I'm sorry for thinking those things about you. You must have been uncomfortable the whole time," Keith says.

"No. It's fine. You had no idea I was listening. I have no right to read your mind anyways. You're free to think what you want."

" _And_ I'm sorry for throwing my drink at your face." _Your really nice face_ , he adds mentally, before he tamps down on that thought right quick. "I tend to be a little impulsive at times."

Shiro takes the napkins from Keith's hand now and blots his own face. "Don't worry. It tastes good. What kind of tea is that?" He takes Keith's empty plastic cup and throws it in the garbage along with an assortment of crumpled napkins.

"Raspberry." With a hint of lemon. He knows Shiro wanted to buy him drinks this time but he couldn't let him. It seemed too much like giving up control. 

They stand there until Shiro almost leaves and Keith says he'll give him a second chance. Up until Shiro's announcement, their date was going well, and he can't afford to lose him over _this_. "I may need a day or two to process this," Keith says, "but I do want to call you afterwards? If you're still interested." 

Really, he's amazed that _Shiro's_ sorry, having heard all of Keith's dirty fantasies.

"Sure, Keith. Take all the time you need, and if.."  
No, oh no. Shiro thinks he's not going to call him. Keith really does mean to call him and he hopes Shiro picks up on that reading his mind.  
"Oh. Really?" asks Shiro.

"You believe me?"

"Yes." The hint of a smile again plays around Shiro's face. 

If that worked, then maybe he can use this to his advantage. 

_You can maybe kiss me?_ he thinks hopefully, imploring with his eyes.

"Haha, okay." And Shiro turns him around and kisses him against the brick, with his well-maintained lips and soft enthusiasm. He keeps it chaste, and Keith is okay with that for now. Shiro seems to really like him, and the next few days without him are going to be torture. He's going to miss this so much.

"I'm going to miss you too," says Shiro.

"It's just a couple days, all right?" Keith whispers a few inches from Shiro's nose, "So I can get used to the idea of dating a telepath? How much distance does this work over anyways?"

"Well, I can't read your thoughts over the phone. Unless you happen to be standing right in front of me."

"Good to know." 

Shiro pulls away with a hand on Keith's wrist because people are starting to watch. A shame, because Keith was just about to fist his hands in Shiro's jacket.

Separating from him is like coming into a whole new world. Just now, Keith takes notice of the glow of the streetlights and swats the bugs away from his face. The streets aren't crowded at this time of night, but there's a moderate number of people out and about, either taking a stroll or otherwise enjoying their night.

"What are they thinking?"

"That we're being gross."

"They can't handle a little PDA?"

" _He_ thinks that we should get a room." Shiro points to an older man on a bluetooth headset trying not to pay them attention. He definitely looks like he'd be allergic to public displays of affection.

Keith finds it all too tempting to say, _maybe we should_ , but he knows that's not what either of them needs right now. "I guess I'll see you in a couple days?" he says instead.

"See you in a few." 

He watches Shiro walk away from him, and Shiro doesn't look back.

***

He told Shiro he would call him back. But now, alone in his own apartment, he doesn't know if Shiro can be right for him.

"Just give him a chance, okay?" Matt says when Keith calls him about his concern. "I mean, obviously, if he's not right for you, that's okay, but please don't dump him over this. I've known Shiro since I was thirteen.

"People who have talents, especially strong ones, often have trouble getting to know other people. Now obviously, I don't have trouble with mine, but for people like Shiro, it's insanely hard." He hears the sound of machinery operating in the background. Matt's probably in his garage. "I'm actually surprised he told you. I keep telling him that's not a good thing to do, but he doesn't listen."

Keith says that he's glad Shiro told him upfront, because otherwise, once he found out, there wouldn't be a possibility of a second date at all. 

I guess it's good he did tell you, then," Matt says after a while. "I also always tell him not to listen to me, so I guess it's good he followed his instincts."

He thinks Matt likes him enough to not give him the shovel talk for Shiro, but he's still not sure. They went to the same high school together, but they didn't really get to know each other until they graduated. Matt's known Shiro longer than him.

 _What's going to happen when Shiro sees something he doesn't like?_ is the question that floats around and around in Keith's mind as he paces in front of the window. _What if he sees something I've done, or I think something wrong? What then?_

Would Shiro just dump him on the spot, or would he wait a while, then do it gently? He hasn't had a relationship in a while; would Shiro see that too and then know why?

Keith hardly knows why himself. Just knows that he wasn't ready.

He hates the feeling of being seen right through, the fact that one person could look at him and think that that's all there is to know. 

"Aaaaaargggh." Keith groans out loud, and when he's done pacing in front of the window, he flops down on his bed to scream into the pillow. Why does he have such bad luck dating? Maybe this is good luck, he doesn't know; they get along.

But he has mean thoughts, inappropriate thoughts, intrusive thoughts. What if Shiro sees one of those and confuses it for his true intentions? It's like a waterfall of emotions in there, spilling over so fast he can't control it. What if he sees it, and he's disgusted?

All of this races through Keith's mind as his hair fans out over the sheets and he lets his lips rest upon it. A strand makes its way into his mouth and he spits it out, not having the energy to move it more than a few centimeters from his lips. Maybe if he lies here long enough, time will stop, so he lies and he hopes.

In his silence, Matt continues his explanation. "As long as I've known him, Shiro's always been respectful of my thoughts, and respectful of my space. It was atrocious at first, and sometimes he still blunders, but it's a lot better now than it was then." Keith can only imagine going through puberty and having someone around see your thoughts. That must be a horrible nightmare.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Keith asks.

"Because that's not my information to share."  
Well, at least he knows Matt is a good friend. Still, he has one question.

"Do you trust him?"

"Absolutely. I wouldn't have recommended him to you if I didn't."

That's comforting. Keith says goodbye and hangs up, and then goes back to shoving his face in the pillow. If Matt trusts Shiro, why can't he? 

Everything about Shiro is perfect, just not this. Why couldn't his talent be anything else?

***

"You're worried," Shiro says. They're on the top floor of the city's tallest skyscraper on the observation deck, with a table that overlooks the city. They could have done something exciting like going over to the race track and checking out some hoverbikes, but right now Keith just wants to talk. He thinks Shiro would rather do that too.

"About what?" Shiro reaches across the table to grab Keith's hands. It feels nice in the warmth of his palms; his knuckles feel snug. Keith's deciding to play dumb.

"You know what. All of it." And that's true; Keith doesn't know what to think about on this date. If he thinks about Shiro, he'll likely stray into unwanted territory, and if he thinks about himself, he's going to give something away. Just by virtue of not thinking of a thing, he's destined to think of it, so it's a lose-lose situation here. It's much easier to study the cars and pedestrians carrying on below. "I can tell you how it works."

It's an offer. He'd be fine listening to Shiro for a hot minute. If he's talking, maybe he can't be listening. "Okay."

"When I hear the voices in people's heads, it's no different from hearing a conversation. Or overhearing it, more likely," Shiro corrects. "If I'm standing near them, their thoughts are louder. If I'm far away, I can't hear well. If someone's talking to me or people are talking in the room I can still hear thoughts, just on another level. It's like how you're thinking now as I'm talking to you. It's distracting, sometimes, but I've learned how to multitask." 

"If you don't want to hear someone, can't you just not pay attention? Tune out?"

"I could, but can you tune out what you hear if someone is speaking to you? Can you not hear what I'm saying to you right now?"

Keith tries, very hard, to mute Shiro. "It's not working."

"Exactly. But I don't know everything about you. I don't know anything unless you think it, and even then, I don't have all your memories. I can't see your feelings. There's still a lot of you to get to know." Keith's still trying to think about a brick wall. "You can relax, Keith, I've heard a lot of things." But Keith can't. Not around Shiro. 

They talk about their lives, how they feel about their jobs, the latest sports games, but Keith can't relax. 

"What happened to your arm?" Keith asks, because he can think of nothing else.

"Car accident when I was 17. Took out my mother, my sister, my dad. Had to live with my grandparents." 

"Oh." Keith looks down at the table.

"Well, it's a very nice prosthetic." It is. State-of-the-art, smooth metal. Occasionally glowing palm. Fits together seamlessly at the joints. It was probably expensive.

"It was, but I'm very grateful for the people who allowed me to have it. It's made life a lot easier." Shiro uses it to pick up his cup and take a drink, and Keith's eyes follow his adam's apple as it bobs up and down. He sets the cup down. "I also have scars." His eyes flick up to Keith's.

"What kind?"

"Every kind. You want to see what's under here...well. It's not what you're imagining."

_I still think you'd be hot._

"No, Keith, you don't know what you're saying."

_Technically, I'm not saying it, it's being thought._

"You know what I mean."

"Actually, I don't." Shiro seems like a very attractive person, inside and out. He's not afraid of a few scars.

"Do you want to know my dating history? I've only ever dated one person long-term, really. We were in a relationship for the past two years and then we broke up. He broke up with me, actually." At Keith's nudge of _why_ , he responds, "He said I was selfish." 

"And were you?"

"Maybe." He knows Shiro can hear him wondering _why_ , but he doesn't elaborate. Ah, a man shrouded in mystery. But maybe Shiro is wondering _why_ , too. It's possible he doesn't know himself. "I don't know."

When they finish eating, they stand outside by the rails, collecting fresh air and looking at the buildings illuminated below them, everything painted neon. Shiro points out where he goes to school, and Keith shows him the racetrack. "It's really easy to see up here," he says, "Can't miss it."

He wants to engage with Shiro, but Shiro seems lost in thought, somber as he stares out over the maze of well-lit buildings and offices. Keith stays and watches with him, but it's obvious after a while that he's pulling away, so he thinks he should give him some space.

Shiro embraces him as he says goodbye, but there's something guarded about his demeanor. Keith makes his way to the elevator, but Shiro doesn't follow. "Aren't you coming down?"

"I'll come down later. I think I'm just going to stay here for a while," Shiro says, smiling weakly at Keith.

"Okay," Keith says, leaving the building himself, and he's ashamed to admit it, but he wants the privacy. He's never been to this building in town before, but he knows how to get home. He looks up the map on his phone just to check, then he follows the blue line down the street. 

The streets looked so alive when they looked at them from up there--Keith cranes his neck to train his eyes on the observation deck. Now they just feel empty. He sees a few figures up there, looking out over the city, but he can't find his orientation to pinpoint which one is Shiro. Maybe Shiro's still out there, or maybe he went in.

Keith likes to think that the one he's looking at is Shiro, because he wants to know how the rest of Shiro's evening goes, even if he's not there. He can't stop himself from wondering, though, if it's better that they only exist this way, at a distance. Maybe Shiro knows about his conversation with Matt last night. Maybe he doesn't. He wasn't dwelling on it when they were in the restaurant, but it's hard to tell.

He shrugs up his jacket and keeps walking home. Ahead of him is the grocery store, and beyond that, the city park; he can find his way from here.

He didn't know that Shiro didn't have parents. Some part of him just assumed that people with abilities lived richer lives, but apparently that isn't always true. Keith didn't have parents because his mom left when he was a baby and his dad died when he was young, but that's awfully different from growing up with them and then losing them, and on top of that, almost dying yourself.

If he had been through that, he's not sure he would even know how to love. But Shiro's out here, trying anyway.

So is he.

It crosses his mind that maybe Shiro got his ability through the car accident, like one of the comic book heroes that became popular in the previous century, but that isn't likely. Oftentimes, tragedy happens, and nothing good comes out of it. Maybe Shiro's the exception.

The race track calls the next day. They say they need a pit crew to fix up a bike on short notice for the races on Saturday. Keith's busy with that, so he doesn't call Shiro for a couple days, and on the third day he gets a text message.

_Keith? Do you still want to be with me? I understand if you changed your mind based on all the things I said, just text me back please_

Keith's fingers fly over the keyboard.

_Why would I not want to be with you?_

_Did something happen?_

_Sorry I've been at the pits all day_

_My hands are kind of dirty right now actually_

As soon as he's finished, he finds Shiro, and it's quick because thankfully they live in the same neighborhood.

"Why would I not want to be with you? Didn't I say that last time I didn't care."

"Yeah. But you didn't text, you didn't call for a few days, and, uh. I thought maybe that last time I scared you off." 

His first thought is that Shiro is just clingy, which, okay, he doesn't mind so much although that could be a problem later on. 

"What, with the story about the car accident and your scars?" It's not a big deal. Working on the track, Keith's seen multiple hoverbike accidents, not all of them pretty. Then it occurs to him that maybe Shiro didn't want to tell him those things, he was only telling them to make Keith more comfortable because he was afraid of what Shiro might learn. "Did you not want to tell me?"  
Shiro doesn't answer and Keith has a feeling it's true. "Shit, I'm sorry." 

He realizes he's been thinking of Shiro as this person with magic powers, someone who has a great advantage that somehow makes him better than everyone else, someone without his own problems. But Shiro has feelings like everyone else, and Keith hurt them.

He remembers what Shiro said about not knowing everything about everybody. To him, Keith might still practically be a stranger.

"You're not a stranger. I just want to get to know you more, if that's okay," Shiro says.

"Me too." 

They stand there and regard each other for a while, nothing to fill the silence except the whoosh of the occasional traffic and Keith's own intrusive thoughts.

But even if Shiro didn't want to tell him all that, Keith is glad he did anyway.

 _Shiro, I want to know you_ , he thinks, and he realizes: it's true. There's nowhere to go but up. He feels bad about what he did to Shiro, and also? At some point, his horniness is going to override his apprehension. He's only human, after all.

They head over to Keith's apartment, ride the elevator up, up to his level, and once they're inside, Keith hesitantly leads Shiro to the couch. He doesn't know why he doesn't use the bed. This is simply the first flat surface he sees available. 

He wants to know Shiro, and he hopes with all his heart this ends up being something good, something that when he's alone, he can remember, and look back on with fond memories.

He wonders if Shiro can sense how nervous he is. Will he do anything about it. _Stop thinking_ , he tells himself when he notices the anxiety creeping in. _Just don't think._

Gentle and undemanding, Shiro kisses his lips, and then his neck. He tries to meet Shiro's lips with enthusiasm, but after a while, it feels like his head is spinning, like he's finally drunk on all the wine his foster parents seemed to always have in their home that he wasn't allowed to touch. Shiro bites his bottom lip and sucks it gently while he prepares Keith. 

Unfortunately, Keith is suddenly self-conscious about the way he shivers, even though he usually isn't with other partners. As Shiro thrusts his lubed finger in and out he feels like he's touching everything, and his stomach contracts with how deep it feels.

"Is this okay, Keith?" 

_Yes_ , that's okay. And he tells Shiro even though he's mostly out of breath. He asks Shiro why he's asking and Shiro says he's not going to push his way into Keith's head and misinterpret what he feels, especially when they're having sex.

But Keith _wants_ Shiro; what's there to misinterpret?

"I want to see you, now, Shiro, please take off your clothes." It's close to begging, but at this point, he doesn't care. When Shiro hesitates, he projects all the want and need he has into the space between them. He hopes Shiro's listening. 

Even with his entire chest covered in scar tissue, he would still be beautiful, and he thinks it's sad that he thinks he's not.

Shiro takes off his shirt. And his pants, and his boxers, and Keith is already naked and aching for it so he doesn't stare too long, but he basks in the knowledge that it isn't exactly as he imagined but it satisfies him to know that he was right.

Shiro _is_ gorgeous. How could anyone ever make him feel different?

And all those thoughts he had, on their first date when he met Shiro? Shiro tries to deliver on every. Single. One. Keith isn't one for kinky sex on the first try, but even when he's asking, Shiro pushes him a little further than normal.

 _Can you hear me? Shiro?_ he projects lazily as Shiro places a thumb on his neck. Thoughts float around in his head, swirling. This isn't really a comfortable position, bent in half with his legs up, but it puts him at the perfect level for Shiro's hips to meet him. From the way Shiro is panting at his neck, he almost doesn't expect Shiro to respond.

Shiro calms him by saying, "Yes, sweetheart, I can hear you," and Keith takes comfort from the way his voice sounds in his ear. It's hard to respond with the way Shiro takes his breath from him, so he tries the thought thing again, and Shiro cradles the back of his head and brings it back upright, attacking his neck with kisses. "Words, Keith."

Keith groans and says it isn't fair, it isn't fair what Shiro does to him. Making him talk when he _knows_ what Keith wants to say.

"It's not fair what _I_ do to _you_?" Shiro gasps, removing his face from Keith's neck to look him in the eye. "Oh, Keith, if you only knew--" between breaths, he picks up the pace of his thrusts, and Keith has to bite back a scream--"if you only knew what _you_ do to _me_. My Keith."

Fuck. _Fuck_ , fuck, fuck, fuck _fuck_ , he's coming. He can feel himself clenching around Shiro, who cums right afterward, and then Shiro asks to suck him off. 

Momentarily stunned, Keith lets him, enduring the minor discomfort it brings to let Shiro have something he wants. His dirty thoughts didn't do any of this justice.

Afterwards, he stares at Shiro in open-mouthed shock, and Shiro smiles at him. He smiles back, but his eyes are still glassy and unfocused from coming twice in one hour. _I guess we get along this way, when we aren't thinking_ , Keith muses to himself, afterward. They're stretched out along the couch, Shiro on top of Keith, but still between Keith's legs because Keith hasn't bothered to release him. What if they just fell asleep here? Would that be so bad?

"Hmmm...we're always thinking," Shiro contradicts him, "even if we don't know it."

"What just happened?" Keith asks out loud, feeling warm and sated, if a little stretched out.

"Something really good," Shiro answers him, adjusting his head on Keith's chest in its rising and falling. They're both still out of breath. "What?"

Keith stares at him, and purses his lips to invite a kiss from Shiro. Shiro takes the invitation and scoots up that much closer to kiss Keith on the lips. 

"You're a fucking sex god," Keith says.

"I'm not, Keith, I'm not. I just listened to you. And watched how you were reacting. It isn't all mind-reading, you know."

"It isn't?"

"No. It's hard for me during sex."

"Really?" That's interesting. Keith closes his eyes and tries his best to be a pillow for Shiro at least until after their blood calms down. "I've gotta get up," he says afterwards, reluctantly, beelining toward the washer.

"Staaaay," Shiro groans, holding on to Keith's hand.

The cabinets above the washer are where he stores all his cleaning supplies. If he doesn't fix the couch, the cushions on it are going to be nasty. Shiro makes no attempt to move, so Keith says, "I've got to go, Shiro, let me up." He explains the situation with the couch and instantly kills any smoochy, sappy, romantic mood that was once floating around in the air.

Shiro gets up and Keith scrubs the couch, then puts the cushions by the vent to dry. "The bed is open, though." He picks up his discarded clothes and makes his way into the bedroom where the bed is waiting for them, satin sheets and soft pillows. He flops down on the full and then on flops Shiro, and they mess up their sleep schedule together, taking a long nap during the day.

***

After that, something clicks between them. Keith likes to say he "proved" to Shiro how desirable he is, as if that's a thing that can be objectively decided (it is). The intrusive fantasies about having sex with Shiro are easier to control, although, the strange thing is now, Keith doesn't know if they ever bothered Shiro in the first place (if they did, he doesn't say anything). Most days, they seem to get along, and Shiro figures out how to use his powers for good in a way that surprises Keith instead of putting him on edge.

One day, he meets Keith on the street with a bundle of flowers.

"How did you know I like flowers?" Keith asks when Shiro presents him with a bouquet full of vivid purples and reds. He sticks his nose in and inhales spring. Summer. One of those seasons.  
These flowers are going to go a long way in spiffing up his apartment.

"You thought it in passing when we saw that Earth Day commercial."

"Really? You remembered that?" That was a long time ago, at least two weeks. Keith had forgotten about it as soon as the channel came back to their program.

He puts the bouquet to his nose again and takes another deep whiff. They all smell stronger the more he keeps smelling them, sort of like honey with a tinge of rose. But the more he smells them, the more he realizes he's smelling the white ones, not the spiky big ones with lots of color. Those don't really have any scent.

"Yes, sir. Do you like them?"

Keith is trying hard not to smile, especially at Shiro's little 'yes, sir,' but he can't keep it down. He hits Shiro playfully on the shoulder with the bouquet. "Why do you have to ask that? You know the answer."

"Just checking."

Shiro smiles unapologetically. Keith thinks that he enjoys giving Keith things, seeing him receive them and generally making him happy. When Keith finally let Shiro buy him a drink, Shiro's face lit up brighter than a full moon, even though Keith didn't think it was such a big deal at the time.

He spins the bouquet around and cradles it as if it were his baby. He never thought someone would give him this, ever. If he were a girl, yes, but not being a guy. Shiro...Shiro came through. "What are these?"

Shiro scratches the back of his neck. "Uhh...I'm not sure, actually. I got them because they looked nice."

"They look vibrant." In fact, Keith has never seen colors so bright. They don't look dyed. He really wants to know what these are. He picks through the flowers because sometimes the florist puts a label, or care instructions, in with the blossoms. "They're dahlias," he says once he finds it. Actually, this is a pretty detailed tag. Lots of words. "'Did you know? That in the language of flowers, the dahlia signifies "my gratitude exceeds your care." Dahlias are native to southern Mexico and are grown throughout the U.S. as hybrids,'" he reads. "Language of flowers? I've never heard of that."

Shiro takes the bouquet and reads the tag, confirming for himself that the tag does, in fact, say that. He gives it back. "Actually, I think I have heard of it. It was a long time ago, though, and it's more common in Japan than it is here. Because the patterns were woven into kimonos and such."

"Ah. That makes sense." They continue to stroll on, past the buildings of Shiro's university that are woven in with the fabric of the city. They pass lecture halls built on street corners, student-friendly cafes, and bike shares as the light changes and they cross each street. "So, Shiro, does your gratitude exceed my care?"

He teases, mostly. Keith expects something flippant because he can't think of any care he's done for Shiro, other than letting him fuck him over his couch, but whether or not that counts as 'care' is debatable. So it surprises him when Shiro says, "Yeah, it does." Keith can see the blush creeping up his neck. 

"But...how? I haven't even done anything. Sure, we've been on a couple dates, and…"

"Keith." Shiro stops him with a hand on his shoulder. "What you do for me is enough." At Keith's puzzled stare, he continues. "Just you being here is…"

Oh. Shiro likes his company. Keith doesn't get what he is trying to say completely, but that's okay. "I get it," he says, stopping Shiro with a hand on his arm before he can finish. Thankfully, Shiro looks relieved. He just wants Shiro to be comfortable. 

He wonders if Shiro can sense the warm feeling that grows in his chest. He's going to put these in a vase when he gets home. 

He likes walking around, but when he gets hungry, he invites Shiro up to have lunch with him. His apartment is a little messy, but Shiro has already seen it, so he's not as self-conscious as he would usually be. 

They take the glass elevator and Keith produces his key and lets them in when they get to the right floor. "So what's your secret desire, Shiro?" Keith asks as they walk in. He has to do something to surprise Shiro now that Shiro's done something nice for him.

"A hot car."

"Really?"

Shiro nods. He doesn't think he can get that, so ...maybe something else. He tries baking Shiro a cake that doesn't turn out well when he makes a breakthrough in his research, and he leaves notes for Shiro inside the clothes that he leaves on Keith's floor. He's not good with words, though, and because he can't stop his mind from running, Shiro always finds them before he leaves the apartment, which nearly defeats the point. Then Keith has to blush as Shiro unfolds the paper and reads something out like "you're sweet," and that's more embarrassment than it's worth.

It only occurs to him days later that he works at a racetrack, and James would probably let them borrow his Maserati, if he asked really nicely. So he does, and James says yes, only if Keith helps him put the latest upgrade on his hoverbike, and then they have a deal.

Keith tells Shiro to meet him in the parking lot so they can go out to dinner, and when he gets to the car, Shiro jumps out immediately even though Keith is standing right there--that's red flag #1. He wanted to meet Shiro and already have the car, but James is running late, as he usually does. When James pulls up and they both get in, Keith in the passenger seat and handing the keys to Shiro, Shiro says, "She's beautiful--just like I imagined!"

Immediately, Keith deadpans. He thought he did a good job of hiding this from Shiro, too. Apparently he isn't as sneaky as he thinks he is.

"Shiro!" he chastises.

"Was that...supposed to be a surprise?"

 _How about_ yes? is Keith's answering thought.

To make things worse, Keith forgot to bring a set of clothes to change into at the track, so Shiro came dressed up, and Keith is going to have to go home to clean up or settle for feeling out of place.

"I can go to your place if you want," Shiro offers.

"No, it's fine," says Keith, leaning against the window. The restaurant they picked is on the edge of town, and he doesn't want to have to detour because at this hour, traffic through the city is pretty bad.

"You sure? I can find a parking spot and we can walk." Shiro raises an eyebrow.

"Yes," Keith snaps, maybe a little too harshly. 

They keep their reservation anyways, but the whole time Keith stews at the fact that Shiro knew. He _knew_. This was all for nothing. He looks over at Shiro--Shiro, in his clean suit and close-cropped hair, that doesn't smell like bike grease. Shiro gets a little crease in the middle of his forehead, because he knows Keith's not happy and he can hear him think it, oh so loud. 

"Let's just get the check and leave." 

"Keith, what's wrong?" Keith will let Shiro pay for it, again, because it makes him happy, and tells himself they'll go out another day, on a day where they're both not angry. He can't surprise him with a museum trip, a trip to the race track, anything. Then Shiro says, "That's not true."

Keith sets his fork down and looks at Shiro in bewilderment. "When you first got the idea for this date...that was about...two weeks ago, wasn't it?" Keith furrows his eyebrows as he tries to remember. "I was over the moon."

He..surprised Shiro?

"I _was_ surprised...kind of," says Shiro, and Keith weighs the options; in a way, he's right, even if Keith wasn't aware of it. "Your thoughts surprise me every day. I may not be surprised when you act on them, but there's still a level of excitement." 

"Really?" 

Shiro nods enthusiastically. Huh. He never...thought of it like that.

Immediately, he feels a stab of guilt for being sour on their date, but Shiro squeezes his hand and says, "It's okay. We still have the rest of the night." He smiles at Keith. "Want a taste?" he says, picking up a bit of clam chowder in his spoon and offering it out to Keith. "It's really good."

Keith zips forward and takes what Shiro has off the spoon. He makes a slurping noise a _little_ louder than intended, but he doesn't care. He wipes his mouth with a napkin and thinks Shiro _was_ right; that is good.

"Want another one?" Shiro grabs another spoonful and offers it out, and Keith has to lean across the table to get it. "Oops." A splotch of clam chowder lands on Keith's knee. It's pretty noticeable, considering the soup is light and his pants are dark. "Give me a second. I guess it's me spilling things on you now," he says, referring to their meeting in the coffee shop which feels like forever ago.

Shiro wets a napkin to scrub it out using the cup of ice water that sits on the table, but the napkin is such low quality that the paper peels off when he tries to rub it against Keith's jeans. "Wait a second."

Keith watches amusedly as Shiro keeps trying to rub the stain out to no avail, then regardless of the napkin in Shiro's hand, he covers Shiro's knuckles with his and tries to get that hand to move up the inner crease of his thigh. 

Shiro just looks at him like he can't believe he's like this, then moves his hand up to the juncture between Keith's thigh and crotch.

"That's better," says Keith. He stretches back and tries to hide his leg under the tablecloth, at least the part people don't need to see. Shiro isn't doing anything, but he just likes to have him close like this. "Are you still eating that?" 

Shiro laughs and says, "Why, you want me to feed you the rest?"

Keith nods, and Shiro shakes his head, but he does feed him the rest. And he doesn't drop any more on Keith's pants, which is a plus.

***

Keith grows so _fond_ of Shiro over the next few days, and it's more than he's ever felt for one human being. Fond of his smiles, fond of his casual touches--he just wants to protect Shiro from everything that could and has ever gone wrong.

He thought Shiro would push, force him to expose all his flaws and innermost thoughts, but he hasn't. Keith is almost at the point where he wants him to.

Keith won't text Shiro. He's broken their snap streak and they had a good one going, too. 

_S: Are you okay? What's wrong?_

_Feelings_ have gotten a little complicated lately. He could show up in front of Shiro like they had planned, and then Shiro's going to _know._

_K: I'm not feeling too well today, maybe tomorrow, we can do something?_

But he can't put off seeing Shiro forever, and he can only make excuses for so long. What's the amount of time people usually date before they say the "l" word? 8 months? A year? It's been three months. He worries that he's going to scare Shiro off.

If it's a good day today, Shiro will be nice and not mention it. He can't know for sure.

Still, he puts on his jacket and grabs the bouquet of flowers he grabbed for Shiro this time, just for a change. Does Shiro even like them? He doesn't know, the decision to purchase was spur-of-the-moment. It turns out that after their conversation last week, being spontaneous is the only way to truly surprise Shiro--in the conventional way, at least. He doesn't know why he didn't think of it before.

The flowers are the most startling shade of blue. Forget-me-nots, the florist said. 

_We'll see about that_ , Keith thought.

Shiro likes the flowers as he likes anything Keith gives him, and they hang out for a while watching kung fu movies. Keith listens to Shiro talk about his research because he wants someone to bounce ideas off of, even though he doesn't think he's going to be much help.

"Keith?"

"Hm?"

"Are you listening?" 

"Yeah." Apparently, he's a little distracted today. What Shiro's saying isn't too complicated, it just has many fine points he doesn't get because he has no background in Shiro's field. Shiro does jet fuels, Keith works with cars. Similar, but not exactly.

Then Shiro puts down his paper as if he noticed something. "What?"

"Nothing." 

Keith knows where his mind drifted to during those last few seconds. There is no way Shiro is oblivious.

Again he stares at Shiro frozen like they're on their first date, and he just discovered Shiro can read minds.

 _I love you_ , he thinks, and it's so hard because he didn't mean for that to slip out, it's way too early to expect Shiro to know how to react. 

But Shiro sees it, sees his agony, how his face is twisted like he expects a disappointment, because he is a disappointment. He rests his hand on the inside of Keith's thigh, where there's a little bit of fat he can't burn off no matter how hard he works out, and pushes his way into his space so he can give him a peck on the lips.

"If you want to talk about it, we will," says Shiro. "If you don't, we won't." Keith is fine with that. "Thanks for the flowers, Keith."

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so dahlias are kind of described in the story, but just so you all know, the meaning of forget-me-nots = forget me not. Also, true love.


End file.
